The Dark Knight Rises
by ProjectXanatos
Summary: What happens when Batman finds himself against an enemy he can't beat, and the entire city is against him? Based on the new movie. After reading, please review!
1. Teaser: Non Existence

**I do not own DC's Bruce Wayne, Batman, James Gordon, or Gotham.**

**South Gotham Hospital**

**1:30 p.m.**

Cold wind bit at the face of Bruce Wayne, causing him to squint his eyes as he stepped out of his black Ferrari, and onto the paved sidewalk of the hospital. Doctors and nurses rushed past, attempting to do all they could in such a short amount of time.

Bruce wore a heavy woolen jacket, the collar lifted up to protect his face, though it didn't help the fact that his short, black combed hair was getting slightly ruffled. His calm hazel eyes looked ahead, seeing the lobby filled with patients that couldn't get treated right away. Their bodies convulsed and their veins popped out as they screamed in utter agony. Bruce knew the reason: A new drug called "_Venom_" that was forced into their bloodstreams. Some people found the effects to be positive; others were not so lucky. The person "administering" the drug was a man named Bane.

Bruce considered the option of bringing Batman back, but how could he? He was wanted for the murder of five people – six, including Harvey Dent. So he simply chose to . . . not believe he was there anymore, though he was demanding to be let out so he could help the city. No . . . it was too risky.

Starting down the lobby, he asked for the room number of Commissioner James Gordon.

**"He's in room 204, Mr. Wayne. But please, don't stay long,"** the receptionist stated with a sad smile. Bruce nodded in understanding before walking through the hall. Jim was recently diagnosed with lung cancer, due to his smoking habits. Everyone was worried about him, including Bruce. As he glanced around the rooms as he passed by them, his mind flashed back to the incident with Gotham General, where the psychopath known as "The Joker" blew it up, rendering it useless because of the C4 that was used. That madman . . . he caused all of this, and Bruce could do nothing about it.

Soon enough, Bruce stopped at a closed door, upon the wood, with bold letters "204". The young man braced himself, swallowing silently and shaking out his nerves . . . and walked in. The room was quiet, saved for the soft beeping of the machines and the exhale of Jim Gordon. Donned in only a hospital nightgown, his mouth and nose were covered with a clear oxygen mask, regulating his breathing. An I.V. was inserted in his left arm, wrapped around his shoulder securely, and a yellow hospital band on his wrist. He was missing his usual dark glasses, his eyes closed.

Bruce grimaced, not wanting to see his friend like this. Taking off his coat and placing it by an empty chair, he revealed the white dress shirt he wore, sitting down as he watched Jim quietly. It wouldn't last. Jim awoke slowly, opening his eyes as they fluttered to take in the area around him. Once they focused, he looked over at Bruce.

Jim groaned painfully as he shifted his right side to get a good look at Bruce. Placing a hand upon his mask, he breathed out, **"Bruce…"** the word was raspy and sounded painful, and resulted in a rough, hacking cough. Bruce leaned forward to calm him down, but the older man waved him away. After a few minutes of silence, Jim spoke once more.

**"We were in this together . . . and then you were gone,"** Jim breathed, the words muffled from the mask. He grimaced slightly and lifted his mask away to speak more clearly, worrying Bruce. **"Now this evil . . . rising."**

Bruce knew what he was talking about: Bane. He nodded.

**"The Batman has to come back."** Jim said, his voice getting a bit stronger and more convicted. This startled Bruce; Jim had figured out who the Batman was just after Dent died, but said nothing and didn't report him. From then on, they trusted each other. Best friends.

Bruce glanced away, a bit in shame. **"What if he doesn't exist anymore?"** Bruce whispered, his voice breaking and closing his eyes. He had sealed away that door a while ago. Jim shook his head slowly.

**"He must..."** Jim replied, coughing lightly, **"He must."** Now, his voice was getting weaker and slowly, his eyes fluttered, trying to stay awake. Bruce curled his hands and clenched them tightly into fists.

**"Get some rest. You need it,"** Bruce said, standing up and grabbing his jacket, turning away to leave.

**"Is he . . . coming back?"** Jim asked, his tone slightly filled with hope. He rose the mask back to his mouth.

Bruce was silent for a moment. **"I don't know,"** he answered simply, and let the room. But he knew; he already knew.

The Batman was returning.

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><p>AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is only the written version of the teaser trailer that was recently released. The story actually begins at the next chapter!<p> 


	2. Painful Living

_"Bruce . . . don't make me your only hope of a normal life."_

_"There's no going back. You've changed things . . . forever."_

_"You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain."_

_**South America, Santa Prisca**_

_**Peña Duro**_

_**11:00 a.m.**_

The sweltering heat of the prison reach an all-time high that morning as the sun shined through the oculus of the cell block. The cobbled floor, walls, and ceiling where sticky and damp from the air, and the cell-doors were hot to the touch. Among many of the inmates that awoke that morning, also did the "alpha male". Inside his small cell, he lay upon a cot, which was messily made. Short brown hair stuck to the sides of his head, and he finally opened his eyes to reveal the dark-emerald orbs that intelligently looked around the room.

Built, sculpted muscles rippled along his frame as he moved from the cot, twisting his neck left to right and back again, resulting in a cacophony of cracking bones. Them a sharp buzz rang throughout the area, and the cell-doors opened to allow the inmates free reign for the time being. He stood up, grabbing the worn, brown teddy bear on the seat beside him, and left the cell. He was immediately enclosed by the crowd of prisoners, and began walking towards the cafeteria. Unsurprisingly, he was given a wide berth as he strode down the the hall.

The cafeteria was unusually clean and cool, much to the pleasure of the man. He moved ahead to the front of the line, no one wanting to anger the hulking monstrosity . . . except for one man, it seemed. The inmate, in anger, let loose a curse and threat. He was new, it seemed. It then became deathly quiet as the men watched on, anxious to see how the man would respond; the guards at the walkways above, armed with pistols, observed in interest.

Turning his head, his eyes quickly scanned the inmate before him. He placed Osito - the teddy bear - on the lunch line, and fully turned to his new opponent. Curling his upper lip, the man finally spoke.

"_Tu Dios te ayuda_..." he snarled, his voice a deep, menacing rumble. A hand whipped out, grabbing the man by the throat. The inmate let out a strangled cry as his airway was cut off. Then, he was slowly lifted up, the large hand applying more and more pressure, attempting to crush-

"Dorrance!" a voice barked out behind him, and prompted him to glance over his shoulder. At the other end of the cafeteria, two men stood watching; the first, wearing a dark-blue suit and a pistol on his hip, Dorrance immediately recognized him as the Warden. The other was older, with strong hazel eyes and graying black hair, along with a white goatee, and dressed in a black suit. In his hands, he held a dark cane.

"Release him. Now," the Warden commanded, lowering his hand to hover above the handle of his pistol as a warning. Dorrance said nothing, instead continuing to apply more and more pressure to the poor man's throat. But a look from the older man made Dorrance tilt his head, and loosening his grip. The inmate fell to the floor, gasping and coughing for air. Dorrance gazed down at the man, giving him a look similar to pity before he turned away, grabbing Osito and strode towards the two men.

Once he got closer, he noticed something immediately about the unknown gentlemen. His goatee fell off his chin, just slightly, creating two white tendrils. This sparked a memory in his mind, and filed it away for later..

A short while later, the three men sat silently in the Warden's office. The gentlemen that Dorrance vaguely knew glanced at the Warden, subtly nodding before turning to speak to him.

"Good morning Mr. Dorrance-" he began, but the large prisoner cut him off.

"Bane."

"Excuse me?"

"My name is Bane. Dorrance was my father's name," he grumbled, glancing up at him. The gentlemen blinked in surprise, but recovered and began again.

"Then, good morning, _Bane_," he repeated, his accent a mix between that of an Englishman and Irishman, "My name is Henri Ducard, and I have been told of your extraordinary skills-"

Bane chuckled, silencing him once more; a smirk formed on his lips. "And you are not Henri Ducard. Are you . . . Ra's al Ghul?" he challenged, tightly wringing his large, sweaty palms.

Once more, a surprise. Apparently, Ra's wasn't used to getting figured out so quickly. A few days ago, an accomplice - or lackey, however you prefer - of his named "Bird" had worked with Ra's before becoming imprisoned. Although he was said to have "died" in Gotham City, it was rumored that he was coming back somehow. And here he was, wanting Bane's help. Smoothing out his suit and narrowing his eyes, he nodded. "You are correct, Bane. I see that you are not only immensely powerful, but intelligent, too. That is good. And so, I have a proposition for you." Ra's laughed. "Well, not as much a "proposition" as it is a new "term of service" for _Peña Duro_."

Then, without warning, Bane felt a sharp prick in the side of his thick neck. He released a sharp gasp of annoyance, and felt _something _getting into his bloodstream. He rose to his feet, reaching out to grab and kill Ra's, but his entire body locked up and entered excruciating pain. "ARGH!" he roared, falling to his knees as his body slowly transformed into a fiery, fleshy cage which he couldn't escape. As he fell to his face, his body convulsing madly and losing consciousness, he heard the voice of Ra's.

"Blame the Batman, Bane. He is the one responsible for injecting the _Venom_..."

Then, nothing.

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><p>Ah, I have to thank the reviews that came so quickly! I'm glad that people enjoyed it, and wasn't expecting to write beyond the "teaser chapter". I have to thank "IcyWaters" and "Elerrina Star" for the reviews! Thanks a bunch!<p>

**Oh, and to IcyWaters:** I can't figure out to indent paragraphs (which I'm sure you can't anyway) so I decided to bolden the dialogue sections. For this chapter, though, I haven't done so. Also, thank you for pointing out the grammatical errors. Let me know what you think!


	3. Going over the Line

_**North America, New Jersey**_

_**Gotham City: Wayne Tower**_

_**3:05 p.m.****  
><strong>_

**GONE TOO FAR?**

**SIX KILLED IN SEARCH OF "THE JOKER"**

_Two days ago, policemen found evidence of the Batman murdering six people, including Salvatore "Sal" Moroni, Sergeant Ralph Mayor, Detective Micheal Wuertz, and District Attorney Harvey Dent. They were apparently killed while the Batman was looking the criminal._

_"We are conducting a rigorous manhunt for the the vigilante known as the "Batman". At the moment, we have no leads, but we will not let let these deaths go without justice," Commissioner James Gordon said during a press conference yesterday morning._

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><p>"Mister Wayne?" someone said as Bruce was reading that morning's paper.<p>

"Hm?" Bruce breathed, looking up to see Lucius Fox. The dark-skinned, older man stood near the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, looking at Bruce expectantly. His eyes narrowed in confusion; Lucius had quit a few days ago. "Lucius . . . what're you doing here?" he asked.

The man smiled pleasantly before walking over, tapping the hard wood of Bruce's desk. "I told you that I wouldn't work here as long as that device is here-"

"You won't be," Bruce completed his sentence, remembering full well the conversation that took place, "But why?"

"As far as I can tell, it isn't here. So I would like my job back," Lucius answered, then let a frown crease his face, "Unless you've given my position away?"

Bruce gently tossed the newspaper upon the desk, sighing and folding his hands. "I have a couple lined up. Sorry about that," he lied with a light chuckle. In fact, he had been looking for a replacement, but none could match up to how Lucius ran Wayne Enterprises, and he was one of the few who knew his secret. Bruce ran a hand through his combed black hair, quirking an eyebrow.

Lucius wore an amused expression on his face, nodding slightly. "I see. May I go back to my office, Mister Wayne?" he asked.

"Yes you can, Mister Fox," as Lucius turned around and left the room, Bruce smiled. Things were already looking up; but, he still needed to take care of some things first.

A few minutes later, Bruce Wayne got up from his desk, straightening the black tie that completed his dark suit - still preferring the three-buttons - and left his office, passing his secretary on the way. He stopped briefly, "Miss Katherine, if Commissioner Gordon calls, tell him I'm on my way, please?" he inquired, then left the lobby to get to the elevator.

A few hours ago, Gordon had called his office, wanting to talk about something "important". A sense of dread had filled his chest, worried about the ramifications of his actions that night. Had they figured out who he was? They put two and two together? Not only would they be able to arrest him for being a vigilante, but he also took the blame for Dent's killing spree. He wasn't exactly sure on how long he would be incarcerated for, but he had an idea: "life sentence". His eyes hardened as he left the building, striding through the lobby as he ignored all others in an attempt to reach his car without interruptions.

A sigh of relief left his lips as he got in his car, leaning back to relax for a moment before he started up the car and drove off. Minutes trickled by as he went through the city, and the calm was broken - to his pleasure - as the phone beeped. It was automatically answered, and Bruce could hear the crisp, distinct English accent of Alfred, his butler.

"Master Wayne?" he chirped, and Bruce glanced down.

"Yeah, what is it?" Bruce replied.

"I wanted to speak to you about the meeting that you have with the Commissioner," said Alfred. Just minutes after finishing the call with Gordon, Bruce had called Alfred to warn him.

"What about it?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Well, since you made the _ever-so _intelligent choice of telling him that you killed those people," Bruce could have sworn he heard sarcasm in that sentence, "Perhaps he knows that you and Batman are one and the same?"

"That's what I figured. It could be nothing, though. Oh, for the record, it may not have been the _smart _choice, but it was the _right choice_. A wise man once told me that."

"With all due respect, Master Wayne, it sounds like he was off his rocker," Alfred quipped, inciting a laugh from the young billionaire.

"I, uh . . . I'll call you after. Let you know how it goes, unless they get me in chains."

"Don't worry. You'll still get your one phone call."

Bruce chuckled, ending the call. He could always rely on Alfred to make any situation a bit brighter.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong> All right, there is Chapter Two (or three, however you want to look at it)! As before, lemme know what you think. I realize that this doesn't involve much, but I wanted to set up the meeting between Bruce and Jim, and will allow me to pay full attention to the confrontation._

**TeddyNoir:** Thank you for the compliments and question. I had just figured out that little plot hole in this revision. I had, before, written the same chapter, but unfortunately, the file had gotten deleted and I was forced to rewrite it. As for your question: there are several sources that he had which allowed him to know who Ra's was, but I had forgotten to add that in this version of the chapter. Basically in my rendition of the prison and its inmates, a man named "Bird" - who was Bane's accomplice - had previously worked with Ra's, and thus let him know that he was possibly coming back. I will most likely edit the chapter and put that in.


	4. I Told You to Hunt Me

By the time that Bruce had reached the Gotham harbor, night had fallen. The wind blew with a crisp bite and the smell had become salty from the water of the docks. Halting to a park, Bruce peered out of his front windshield, calmly scanning the area before him. He got out of his car, grabbing the coat from the back seat and wrapping it around himself, trying to keep warm.

_"Rub your chest. The arms will take care of themselves,"_ he remembered his old mentor Ra's once saying, and proceeded to knead the flesh and muscles on his torso to warm himself. As he walked along the large, steel crates that read '_WAYNE CORP._', Bruce felt the slightest inclination that he was alone. Creaks from the containers resounded through the docks, and finally felt safe to know that he was indeed alone, allowing him time to think.

How did it come to this? He had formerly set out to cleanse Gotham of corruption, attempting to root it out, and he was doing a fairly good job . . . until the mob stepped up their game by coaxing the Joker from wherever the hell he came from. So many lives were lost, and Bruce had felt that it was surely his fault that the maniac challenged him with innocent lives, as well as darkening the last glimmer of hope by ruining Harvey's life. Then at the end of it all, Bruce - no, the Batman - decided to take the blame for the deaths. Now, as the newspapers informed him, he was being hunted down, and the moment possibly had come when they found him.

Bruce's train of thought was derailed as he heard footsteps behind him. Instinctively, he whirled around and took a step back, only to see Gordon standing there, hands in the pockets of his jacket.

James Gordon's neatly, combed-back brown hair was slowly graying, showing signs of stress as his tired blue eyes looked Bruce over. However, it didn't detract from his intimidating, commanding presence. The blue in his eyes were dulled by the presence of his glasses. Instead of the larger, brown-rimmed pair he wore a few days ago, it seemed he traded them in for a slimmer, darker-rimmed look. "Hello, Mister Wayne. Nice night," he said, trying his hand at casual conversation.

"It's, uh . . . colder than usual," Bruce replied, lowering his hands to slip into his pockets. "What did you call me here for, Commissioner?"

James frowned, sad by the idea that Bruce was so anxious to get this over with. But he answered, vaguely. "It took me a few hours to piece it all together, but I finally got it," said James.

Bruce's heart clenched painfully; the Commissioner knew, but he had to play the idiot for a while longer. For answers. "Got what?"

"It was Rachel Dawes," he continued, not acknowledging the younger man's question, "You see, when we questioned the Joker, I had asked someone to help me. And during the interrogation, a button was pushed when the Joker mentioned Rachel. My "help" had gotten angry and got the Joker to tell us where Rachel and Harvey Dent was. Rumor was, that you and Miss Dawes had been together."

"We were friends. Nothing more..." Bruce countered, and mentally slapped himself; he had slipped, unleash his anger on his enemy. Something that wouldn't happen again.

James nodded slowly, "Maybe. But when my friend and I left, he responded in one word: "Rachel". From then on, suspected. But when you saved the life of Coleman Reese, I knew," he explained, taking a few more steps forward. Bruce's eyes narrowed. How many mistakes did he make?

"Knew what?"

Silence ensued for a few moments, and James spoke. "I know who you are, Mister Wayne."

Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He was stunned. Instead, James answered with finality.

"You are the Batman."

It felt as if Bruce's life just drained away, and his knees buckled but regained his posture. But he sensed the cool bead of sweat rolling down his temple. Now, instead of arguing his innocence, Bruce looked square into James' eyes.

"Now what? Are you going to arrest me, Commissioner?" he asked, his tone flat and cold.

"I thought about that, and I knew it would really make front page headlines. "Bruce Wayne: Playboy turned Cape Crusader"," Gordon replied with a chuckle, shaking his head before his expression turned serious. "But . . . I thought about it even more. And . . . I can't. There are still criminals out there; ones that the MCU can't face by themselves. We need the Batman. Now, more than ever."

Life slid back into focus; an unusual focus, but focus nonetheless. Was Gordon condoning his actions? As much as he felt relieved about this, he found a small hole in the Commissioner's plan. "But I'm condemned. I told you to hunt me, remember?"

"Oh, I know. And we are. Publicly. But that doesn't mean we can't work together behind the scenes," countered James, smirking.

"It's going to be hard with your men getting in my way, you know."

"What, you want it easy? Besides, they're big kids; a little hit now and then won't bother them."

Bruce stared at James, both of them stony-faced. But they couldn't hold it for long. They smiled before sharing a cheerful laugh, and Bruce saw the older man digging in his pockets. James lit up a cigarette, glancing at Bruce before extending the pack. "Want a smoke?" he asked.

Bruce held up a hand, "No, thanks. I'm good."

And he was. As Bruce turned around, he waved over his shoulder, smiling to himself. Tomorrow, the Dark Knight would reappear above Gotham's skyscrapers, defending the innocence and the weak. Yes, things were looking up.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> _All right, please review after reading! Also, I would like your thoughts on how I handled the reveal, and the leading up to it!_


End file.
